ABSTRACT
The first time this happened to me I was a student of composer Easley Blackwood in Chicago; part of my apprenticeship was listening to him practice piano, often for many hours at a sitting. As our attunement grew, I found I could follow his practice routines and his patient polishing of passages under study. One fine day (actually it was three in the morning) I realized that I was on his wavelength. Not only was I hearing as he was, I was hearing through his ears. . . .
